


Kissed The Girls and Made Them...Cry?

by kiitos



Category: Horrible Histories
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 15:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiitos/pseuds/kiitos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was once suggested that the 'Georgie Porgie pudding and pie...' rhyme was about Charles II which is kind of ridiculous, but also hilarious. This is therefore the story of Charles' love life if it were true...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kissed The Girls and Made Them...Cry?

She is a fine young thing.

So young in fact that Charles had felt the need for a hurried word with his advisor whom had presented the girl to him in the first place.

“Do not worry sire.” Sotherby had said. “She is the eldest daughter of one of the French nobility, she expressed an interest in meeting you and how could I refuse? Especially when she is so very much…your type.” Sotherby had finished with a wry grin.

Charles had smiled back cheekily, inclining his head to his advisor who responded with a deep bow before hurrying off to distract the rest of the party whilst Charles had returned to the pretty thing in his bedroom.

And she is pretty. Large dark eyes, pale skin and tumbling curls that shine in the candle light, not to mention perfect pink lips that he aches to kiss. He leans in, pleasantly surprised when she meets him, no awkward conversation for them then. Her mouth is soft and pliant beneath his and he kisses her gently, with just enough tongue to make interesting but not enough to scare her. He lifts a hand to cup her cheek and oh…he pulls away and sees that she is crying.

He frowns. “Whatever is the matter?” He asks as understandingly as he can possibly manage but she is up and racing out of the room before he has the chance to do anything. He can hear her sobs as she heads down the corridor and he frowns again, most odd.

When Sotherby shows up some time later to ask how it went, Charles explains the situation and Sotherby frowns in a similar display of confusion. “She seemed so keen.” He says and seems a little perturbed as though he has done wrong and really Charles can’t have that, so he claps him on the shoulder and beams.

“Not to worry Sotherby, not your fault she was a bit strange. Perhaps it’s a French thing.”

Sotherby smiles then and nods. “Perhaps so sire, there are still some guests in the hall if you wish to return?”

Charles grins. “Excellent idea! Won’t you come have a drink with me, that champagne they all seem to drink is just marvellous!” He claps his hands together when Sotherby nods and together they head back to the party, the girl’s strange behaviour completely forgotten.

When it happens again Charles is very drunk and assumes it’s the alcohol that scares her off and passes out when she’s gone without a care.

The third time he throws his hands up in frustration and stalks down to Sotherby’s room. “Sotherby!” He announces gruffly when he slams the door open expecting his advisor to be in bed but instead he is behind a desk scribbling furiously with one hand and desperately tugging at his short hair with the other. Charles has never seen him without a wig and when he steps into the room he notices his aide had shed most of his regal outer clothing and is only dressed in a simple shirt and breeches.

“Sotherby.” He says more quietly and his advisor jumps a little and looks at him like he really has only just noticed his presence.

“Sire.” The man scrabbles to his feet and looks so endearingly ruffled without his trimmings that Charles’ anger melts away and he smiles through a sigh.

“It happened again Sothers.” Charles likes to think that throughout their time together in Europe they have become something approaching friends and so addresses his advisor accordingly, even if Sotherby does insist on addressing him appropriately Charles knows he feels the same. It’s nice.

“Again sire?” Sotherby frets, wringing his hands and frowning. “What exactly are you doing to these women?” The hint of teasing in his voice makes Charles chuckle as he flops down onto Sotherby’s bed, knowing his advisor won’t mind. Many has been the night they have sat on each other’s beds discussing life, love and how exactly they are going to go about getting Charles’ throne back.

“I’m just kissing them Sothers.” He covers his eyes dramatically. “I hardly get the chance to go further before they’re running from the room crying like I’ve mortally offended them in some way. I tried to ask that Sophia whether I had done such a thing but she was too busy weeping and running away that she could not answer me.”

Sotherby chuckles and passes over a tumbler of something dark and rich smelling, when Charles drinks it it burns his throat pleasantly and the rest of the evening and much of the night is then given to talking to a happily relaxed Sotherby. Charles likes him like this and when he gets drunk enough he even calls him Charles, it’s just nice to have a friend who knows him so thoroughly.

But Sotherby does stop introducing women to him after that and Charlies is forced to find them himself but it keeps happening, he kisses them as perfectly and as gentlemanly as he possibly can and they just cry. He tries everything, he tries engaging them in conversation for hours beforehand, he tries sweeping them off their feet and ravishing them in the nicest possible way, he even tries showering them with gifts but it keeps happening. As soon as he kisses them, they burst into tears and run away from him.

So he stops kissing them. And he stops going after eager young things and instead chases older, more experienced women whom he hopes will have the presence of mind not to run crying from him. After several of these women his confidence returns and he leans down without thinking to kiss a woman described by many of the locals as something of an easy lay but he has become so desperate that such labels do not bother him. He kisses her, just a peck nothing more and the tears form so rapidly that they take both of them by surprise.

To her credit she does not run but she does exit rather quickly and he suspects it was just as much of an embarrassment for her. He sighs as he redresses himself, he has not spent the evening with Sotherby in some time now so he heads down to his advisor’s room and knocks quietly, feeling too deflated to burst in his usual fashion. When the door opens however he is not greeted by Sotherby but by a girl he recognises as being the very first French girl he made cry and he shuffles his feet awkwardly as she scurries past him. He heads into the room when she is out of sight and he isn’t quite sure what he expected to see but Sotherby fully dressed in his official attire is not it.

“Sothers?” He asks in confusion. “Were you not just…” He flaps a hand, suddenly feeling quite embarrassed himself. “…with that girl?”

Sotherby looks at him in a most offended way. “Certainly not sire, we were talking.” He explains, waving his own hand in the direction of the bed as was their customary sitting place.

The crystal tumbler appears in Charles’ hand as soon as he is seated and he sips at its warm contents gratefully, the burn reminding him that he is alive and is not a complete failure. He is prone to private moments of self-doubt these days and often finds his nights with Sotherby are the only cure for these more melancholy feelings.

“What were you discussing?” He asks after a moment, he smiles when Sotherby does, it’s just something he cannot help.

“I asked her why she ran from you.” Sotherby says simply as though such a thing would be perfectly obvious and Charles frowns, he knows Sotherby is his closest friend, advisor and generally does everything for him but he cannot help but feel a little…violated. Sotherby apparently notices and rushes to explain. “I brought her to you sire, I cannot help but feel responsible for your moods of late since I seem to be suddenly failing at something I used to be good at.”

Charles smirks, by that he knows Sotherby means finding him discreet women who will sleep with him without wanting anything so momentous as marriage. So he allows Sotherby to continue and listens to him as he explains further.

“She said it was the way you kissed her sire.” He says and Charles chokes on his drink, his kissing is good, he knows it is so why has this problem suddenly occurred now? Perhaps it is a thing with the European women, perhaps…“She said it was…too perfect.” Sotherby finishes quietly, Charles just stares at him.

“Too perfect, Sothers?” He asks.

“Indeed sire, apparently you kiss so perfectly that the women immediately find themselves unworthy of you and thus run away to avoid any further awkwardness.” Sotherby’s cheeks are a little pink and although it could be from the alcohol, Charles finds it impossibly endearing.

“Is that so?” He replies after a moment taking in that delightful blush, the self-doubt is creeping in again and he fidgets as he tries to think how exactly he is going to rectify this problem. Sotherby calmly suggests that the next women he chases should be English and Charles nods, at least then they can figure out whether it is a strange European thing or not.

It is not. A week later the English girl with her pale skin and pink lips cries as soon as his lips brush hers and he stomps to Sotherby’s room furiously. “It happened again!” He pretty much shouts as he crashes through the door, his advisor greets him with a frown and a sigh.

“Again sire?”

“Again! Worse in fact, I barely touched her and she wept and fled.” He perched on the edge of Sotherby’s bed gingerly and looked at him sadly. “Have I lost it Sothers? Am I that repulsive?”

Sotherby sighed again and sat next to him. “No sire, remember the kissing is…too perfect.” Sotherby is blushing again and Charles wonders how exactly he managed to ask the girl why she did not want to sleep with Charles but the mention of Charles’ apparently perfect kissing sends him blushing.

“It is hard to believe Sothers when girls run away from you with tears in their eyes.” He sighs and leans against his advisor forlornly. “What am I to do?”

“Have you tried kissing them less perfectly sire?” Sotherby replies sounding just as helpless because really this is a ridiculous situation and nothing either of them has ever done can prepare them for quite how ridiculous it is.

“I have actually Sothers, it didn’t work. I tried with and without tongue, I tried hard, soft, slowly, quickly…everything and it happened every time. Maybe I should just give up.”

Sothers’ arm is tentative around his shoulders but reassuring all the same and Charles leans into the half hug offered to him, Sothers is warm and comforting and Charles sighs. “Maybe I should take after Lizzie and just be celibate.”

“Sire.” Sothers looks affronted. “One can hardly expect to the merry monarch is one does not have masses of sex.”

Charles giggles at Sotherby’s unexpected outburst and it takes him several moments to calm down. “Oh Sothers you always know the right thing to say.” He wipes at his eyes and composes himself. “But I’ve tried sex without kissing, I don’t like it.” He pauses and downs the rest of the drink, wincing a little as it goes down. “I like kissing, Sothers!” He declares and sinks straight back into his melancholy. He bites his lip and looks down at his lap, unsure of what to do, wondering whether he should stay or go because Sotherby doesn’t seem to be up for much talking tonight.

“I’m so sorry sire, I don’t know what else to suggest.” Sotherby says quite suddenly, Charles looks at him with a smile. Trust Sotherby to feel the need to apologise for something that was entirely not his fault and out of his control. So he laughs, intending to put his advisor at ease.

“It is not your fault dear Sothers, you know I even tried kissing a man to see if it was a woman thing but even he cried and ran away, it was most perplexing.” He sort of expects Sotherby to flail or choke or remind him that such things are not the sort of behaviour rightful kings of England should be engaging in. But Sotherby doesn’t do that, he just nods and makes a noise that could be interpreted as agreement or even approval.

“A sensible measure sire, regrettable that it gave the same results however.” He says quite sensibly and Charles just stares at him, though quite why he’s shocked he has no idea, Sotherby has put up with an awful lot of strange behaviour from him over the years and nobody knows him better so Sotherby’s complete acceptance is not all that strange really.

“Any more of that brandy Sothers?” He asks affecting what he hopes is an innocent expression.

“Absolutely sire.” Sothers agrees and refills both tumblers almost immediately.

Sometime later Charles is rather merry and even Sotherby is very sweetly appreciative of Charles’ retelling of the hiding in the Oak tree story. He knows Sotherby knows the story but somehow his advisor always reacts like it’s the first time he’s ever heard it and always tells him how brave and clever he was even if he was absolutely terrified at the time. It makes Charles happy to know that Sotherby believes in him so whole-heartedly, to know that he’ll always have at least one man who would remain loyal to him until the very end. It makes him happy.

There was a time when Charles wondered why the gloriously official and outwardly uptight Lord Sotherby was a Cavalier after all he seemed to similar to the roundhead lot. He had expressed these thoughts once and Sotherby had been so offended he hadn’t spoken to him in three days. It was moments like this when Sotherby was very drunk off expensive French brandy and giggling happily over nothing at all, giving up his entire night to cheer up Charles even though he had a lot of work to do the next day, that Charles remembered just how much of a true Cavalier Lord Sotherby was.

Kissing him was quite unexpected really, there was a brief moment when Sothers stopped giggling and was just looking at him with a smile and Charles decided to go for it and Sotherby wasn’t crying. In fact he’s sure he can feel the tiniest bit of pressure in return so Charles goes with it and hooks an arm around Sotherby’s neck, holding him in place as he kisses him thoroughly and with far more dexterity than a man as drunk as he is should really be able to manage.

It’s Sotherby who deepens it, gently pushing his tongue past Charles’ lips and licking at his own with such softness that Charles shivers and wonders where exactly his most loyal friend learned to kiss like this. He shifts so he can better respond and ends up pretty much knelt across Sotherby’s lap with Sotherby’s fingers holding onto his hips and keeping him in place as they keep kissing. It’s so strange and surreal and ridiculous and yet so bloody perfect that he just can’t stop. Even as he pushes Sotherby backwards gently so he’s flat on his back and Charles is hovering over him, peppering little kisses on his jaw, neck and finally lips.

Why didn’t he think of this before? The one person who had been with him for so long so as to have developed immunity to Charles’ charms, who didn’t want him because he was the rightful king of England but who wanted him because he was Charles, Sotherby dear sweet loyal Sotherby. How could it ever have been anyone different?

They keep kissing until they pretty much pass out and when Charles wakes up in the morning wrapped around his advisor he smiles, feeling happier than he has done is a very long time. Though something is gnawing at him and he leans forwards to press a very delicate kiss to Sotherby’s lips, then draws back and chews on his lip worriedly as he waits. Sotherby wakes slowly, blinking a few times so he can focus but there are no tears so Charles surges forwards and captures him in a slow deep kiss that lingers for several minutes. Sotherby responds enthusiastically enough and pulls him into a hug when they separate.

“I was worried it was the alcohol.” Charles explains in a small voice.

Sotherby tightens his hold on him and sighs. “As was I sire, I don’t know what I would have done if…”

But Charles puts a finger to his lips and stops him. “But it didn’t happen, and here I am and there you are and we are not kissing.”

“My apologies Charles.” Sotherby smirks. “Allow me to rectify that.” And he shuffles forwards and kisses him so perfectly that Charles feels like he should be the one crying.

But he doesn’t do that, just kisses back and their clothes end up scattered across the room as kisses become more feverish and as a result they end up spectacularly late for their appointments that day then. But it’s alright, as long as Sotherby wears a high collar for the next few days, then it will all be alright.


End file.
